Chapter 8.2

I touch my neck and face, searching for wounds.

"She's protected."

Costin tightens his grip, and the goblin whimpers before falling limp. He tosses it aside, and the creature scrambles back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as it came.

I stare after it, my heart hammering violently in my chest.

Costin's eyes sparkle with a sinister and predatory gleam, hinting at the danger lurking within. The full threat of the moment barely registers before he says, "You're welcome."

I exhale, realizing I've been holding my breath. "I didn't… I didn't need your help."

He arches a brow and drawls sarcastically. "Of course not. I find screaming and flailing to be an effective means of protection."

I hug my arms around my body and ignore him as I search our surroundings for other threats. My self-defense instructor would be so disappointed in me.

"He'll tell the others. You have nothing to worry about."

He sounds confident as he dismisses my fears, but strands of threatening red still swim in his eyes .

I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the look. I hate that I feel this way. I'm drawn to him, even though I know I shouldn't be.

"Are you done with your accusations? Are you ready to listen?"

He picks up the conversation as if the goblin attack didn't happen.

I nod. I don't want to, but the reaction is out of lingering fear.

Costin strikes me as the type who is not used to being contradicted.

"I'm listening,"

I whisper, wishing I sounded braver.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small leather-bound book. He holds it between us.

I don't want it. I feel like if I touch the book, bad things will happen. No part of me wants another supernatural escapade.

Why can't my life be normal?

I don't want this.

I don't want to be here.

Tears threaten. It takes everything in me to hold them at bay.

"Take the book."

Costin gives it a little shake. He looks at me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve.

I hate that part of me wants him to solve it.

I hesitate. Not because of the mausoleum or the goblin, not because of the prophecy. But because of him. The closer I get to Costin, the harder it is to remind myself why I need to stay away.

Defying him seems like a mistake, so I finally reach to take it. Nothing happens when my fingers touch the book, and I feel a captured breath release from my body. I turn it over in my hands to examine the plain leather cover. It looks old and smells musty, like wilting paper in the unused section of a public library.

I feel his eyes on me as I flip the cover open and look at the yellowed parchment inside. I squint, trying to see in the dark. The penmanship is old with an artistic flair, and I read, " Wyrd bie ful ar?d."

I struggle to sound out the words as I say aloud, "Word biofuel a road?"

before shutting it. "Who wrote this? Medieval monks? I don't speak Old English."

I try to give it back to him. He refuses to take it.

His motions blur. I feel cold wrapping my wrist before my hand is jerked forward. Before I can process what is happening, I feel a sharp bite clamp into my palm. I yelp in surprise, and he lets go.

"What the fuck, Costin?"

I demand, slamming my fist into his chest before backing away from him. "I told you I'm not a snack."

My blood stains his lips, and he slowly licks it. The gesture is wholly sexual, and I hate that I notice.

"Blood magic," he says .

"Annoyed human,"

I retort, balling my bleeding hand into a fist.

"Blood lock."

He glances down at the book.

"I hate riddles. Can't you just get to the point, Beowulf? What is it you want from me? I don't have the time or inclination to get a doctorate in medieval literature."

He takes the book from me and opens it. "Hold out your hand."

I frown but obey.

"The other hand."

He nods to where I'm bleeding.

I lift my bleeding palm. He places the book under it and catches a drop of my blood. The page shimmers with magic, and I watch the words transform so I can understand them. I squint to make them out. The phrase I read before changes, and I make out, "Fate cannot be changed."

"Hm,"

Costin looks at the page. "That is the translation you see? Interesting."

"Why? What do you see?"

"Roughly, fate is wholly inexorable,"

he answers.

Whatever that means.

"Okay, fine, fate is fate,"

I dismiss, putting my fist down by my side to drip blood onto the grass. The wound throbs, but I try to ignore it. "So what? That's it? That's the great and important message?"

You can't change shit. That's the message my grandfather sent from beyond the grave through a vampire to tell me? I'm helpless to change the past. I can't have Paul or the normal life he represents. All I have is whatever this reality is.

Costin turns the page to where more Old English words await.

"Don't tell me I have to bleed on every page."

I frown, shaking my head. "This is gross. Just give me the condensed version."

I don't want to stand in the dark, trying to decipher an old crappy story that's going to fuck up my life.

"You should read it for yourself,"

he insists. The vampire waits like he expects me to do it right now.

"I know it's been a really long time since you were mortal, but this,"

I point at the moon hiding behind the clouds, "is not great reading light."

He studies my face and then nods.

"Of course, I forget human frailties."

He closes the book and hands it to me. "Be careful with it. It cannot fall into the wrong hands. Don't show it to anyone, not even your family."

"Sure."

I nod, tucking it under my arm.

He glances around the tombstones. The cemetery is empty except for the two of us—well, that is, if you don't count those resting beneath us. Heck, if you don't count those partying beneath us .

I wish Anthony would come back. I don't like being here. When Costin leaves, I'll be alone.

I don't know which is worse, hanging with a master vampire or being abandoned by one in a graveyard frequented by ghouls and other creepers.

He starts to turn, and I'm afraid he's leaving.

I purposefully soften my expression and let a note of vulnerability lift my tone to keep him from going. "Won't you tell me what this is about? Please, Costin. I promise I'll read it later, but don't keep me in suspense."

It works. His entire demeanor toward me relaxes.

Code switching for the win. Even undead, it would seem men are easy to manipulate. They all want to believe we're damsels in distress—helpless and in need of their eternal protection.

The idea gives me a sense of power, even if it is short-lived.

"George should have told you this. Soon after you broke your arm and he first gave you the amulet, he came to me. He had done a deal with trolls for the amulet you wore for protection. He should have known better. Troll magic is powerful, but it comes with…"

He gestures his hand as if looking for the right words. "Side effects."

"Like resetting time?"

My mind is instantly brought to the alternate timeline, to my birth mother and Diana and Paul. Sweet human Paul .

"So you do know. It happened?"

"I lived it."

My hands are shaking, and I have to force myself to breathe. I reach into my pocket and take out the pouch with the broken amulet pieces. I hear the shards clinking against each other. They no longer vibrate, and I wonder if I just imagined it.

Finally, I have found someone who understands the depth of my experiences. It's astonishing that it turns out to be him. As I look at his face, I sense an indescribable shift within me. There's an unspoken connection that binds us together, palpable yet invisible.

What is happening to me?

"Do you remember anything from it?" I ask.

In that other timeline, he burned to death on my birthday. There is nothing for him to remember beyond the fire and his death.

"Those memories are yours alone."

Costin appears to come closer, but I don't see him move. "Was it the fire? Was that the event? When I found you with the amulet on the sidewalk? Your blood tasted heavily of magical residue that night. It stung my tongue it was so thick."

"That's where time restarted."

I don't speak of the weeks I lived through before the reset.

"What changed?"

I look around the cemetery, wondering if Conrad is nearby. I don't want him to hear us, and I don't know how much to tell Costin.

"It doesn't matter."

"Tell me."

I don't want him to force me to speak the truth, so I say a condensed version. "Someone tried to steal the amulet magic for themselves, and it broke. Time reversed. Here I am."

"Someone?" he muses.

I silently beg him not to dig too deeply. "Like I said, it doesn't matter."

We remain silent. A chill lingers in the air. Shadows from clouds and moonlight slither over the tombstones. He appears unaffected. Perhaps he's simply accustomed to the night.

I wonder what it would be like to be condemned to darkness, to have to hide half of every day because sunlight equals death. To spend century after century walking the earth, dining on the same meal—human blood.

I love a good New York slice, but I wouldn't want to eat pizza every night for an eternity. The thought makes my stomach grumble.

"What are you thinking just now?"

He stares at me so intently, like I'm the only thing that exists.

"I'm craving pizza,"

I answer. It feels kind of like a slight because he can't have any. "I guess you don't know what that's like. "

"People taste like what they eat."

His eyes dip over me. "Would you like me to escort you to a pizzeria?"

Of course, he took my comment like it was some bizarre offer to feed him.

I instantly shake my head and lift the book. "I want you to tell me what this is all about."

"Very well."

He nods, but I sense his disappointment. "George had a premonition that led him to the prophecy."

That makes sense. My grandfather was skilled at premonitions, even more so than Uncle Mortimer.

I'm not going to think about Uncle Mortimer right now. One problem at a time.

"He mentioned that if the amulet ever broke, it meant you had saved my life, and I would owe you a life debt. He made me promise to keep you safe. It was only after gifting you the necklace that George discovered the prophecy linked to the amulet, but by then, it was too late. You had already put it on. He entrusted me with that book for safekeeping, cautioning that we must act when the moment arrives."

"What do you need me to do?"

I inquire, hoping it's something easy, like tossing the pieces into a river or chanting an eerie incantation.

It won't be. It never is.

"Do you know the story of how the trolls build their mountains to hide away from the world?" he asks.

I shake my head in denial, even though it sounds vaguely familiar.

"It was in the time before time long before magic was tamed and before man overtook the planet like a plague. They built their homes over an ancient power, an evil so great it consumed everything. It's that magic they tapped into when they made their little trinkets for the gods."

He nods at the pouch I'm holding with the book. "The amulet did more than protect you. It kept something asleep, but now that it is broken, that ancient evil has been poked awake. The amulet must be mended, and the evil needs to be stopped."

Fuck me. Ancient evil?

"Mended? What, like with super glue?"

I don't expect that to be the solution, but a girl can hope.

"This is not the time for jokes. This evil will consume all of us. Humans, vampires, trolls, ghouls, everything. It will bring us to the time that was before. Into chaos and pain. Humans are lucky. They will die quickly. We immortal will face an eternity of anguish."

"Who's joking?"

No part of me finds this funny. "I'm very serious. Do I look like a lapidarist? I don't know how to mend magical jewels."

"It was my desire to take you down into the catacombs tonight so we could figure this out,"

he says. "There is a troll who?—"

"How much time do we have?"

"We should act soon. I've felt a shift in the paranormal realms, a stirring. Can you not feel it in the air?"

He lifts his arms to the side.

I glance around the graveyard. He keeps thinking I know something I don't. I shake my head. The only thing I feel right now is a hint of period cramps, carb cravings, and a deep fear of an ancient evil taking over the world.

You know. The usual.

"I wanted to allow you time to mourn your brother. I thought you would approach me before now. I've been waiting. Since George didn't share this with you before his death, I realize now that I should have contacted you first."

I never imagined it would turn out like this, but this reset I'm experiencing might end up worse than the previous timeline. I could end up losing everyone all over again.

The weight of the broken amulet feels heavy against my hand. What happens when I fix it? Does time start over? Will Paul and Diana remember me?

Will Paul die all over again?

What happens if I do nothing? All humans die, and Anthony and my parents suffer for an eternity.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

It's a rhetorical question. I pull the book and the amulet close to my chest. "I should go home and read this."

"Of course."

He nods once. "We can meet again tomorrow."

Everything about him is stiff and formal, from his posture to his gestures. It's not just the vampirism. He was born into the aristocracy—and not the modern-day kind. We have class differences today, but not like his era. Costin is from a time when feudal lords ruled with armies and lived in castles. They took what they wanted openly, and no one denied them.

I see those traits in him in the way he looks at me, his jaw slightly lifted, and his eyes pointed downward. He has a domineering quality to him. The swirl in his gaze hints at his blood hunger.

I'm drawn closer. There is a deepness inside of him, a dark vortex of loneliness. I feel it radiating into me. Centuries reside there, time ticking by in an endless procession. The graves fall away, as do the shadows surrounding us. The ground trembles softly against my feet like the ground releases a shaky breath.

I've known him my entire life, and yet I feel as if this is the first time I really see him. Dark lashes and smooth skin, pale from living in moonlight. His lips are stained red from tasting my blood. I've always told myself that vampires smell like ash and death, and some do, but not him. He smells of nature like the wind blew through him and left behind traces of evergreen and flowers. I feel that wind now, tickling my back and traveling over my skin.

I'm drawn into that vortex, wanting to warm it, wanting to crawl inside to bring the sun into his darkness. But he can't have the sun.

There is an ache that fills me, stopping just short of pain. The need is too strong to resist. My entire body vibrates and heats. I hear my heart beating louder and faster. I lean forward, and my eyelids feel heavy.

Someone whispers in my ear, but I can't decipher what they're saying.

Costin's face is the only thing I see. His skin seems to shimmer and blur, and he's so beautiful. I want to touch him.

No. I need to touch him.

"Costin,"

I whisper, feeling my grip on the book and amulet loosening so I can reach for him. My eyes fixate on his mouth, to the hint of parted fangs.

"That is what being mesmerized feels like,"

he answers.

Instantly, the fog goes away, and I'm left disorientated. The sounds of traffic blare into the silence, and I stumble on pitted concrete.

The cemetery is gone, replaced by a dank alley. The smell of nature instantly becomes the unmistakable stench of garbage wafting out of a nearby dumpster. I can no longer feel the vortex inside of Costin's chest, but the ache that came with it still lingers. The vibrations and heat leave me with an intense sexual arousal. The knowledge of it repulses me.

Correction. The knowledge of it should repulse me. To my everlasting shame, it does not.

"Where are we?"

I demand, not recognizing the location.

His eyes are swirling with red. I can't tell if it's hunger or excitement. "A block from your home. I thought it best to at least escort you this far. You never know what kind of monsters you'll run into in the middle of the night. A lone human should take precautions."

I'm not sure what annoys me more. His advice or the superior way he says it. Between the two of us, I think I'm more equipped to know the danger of being a human in this world. It's the one lesson I have been told since I was old enough to understand that there really are monsters that like to crawl under your bed and hide in your closet.

"Go home, little castoff. Read the book. I will meet you back at the mausoleum at dusk."

And with that, he leaves, disappearing from the alley as if he had never been there. I collapse against a brick wall. Now that I'm alone, I allow myself to gasp for breath. What the fuck was that?

I have never taken ecstasy but imagine this is what it would feel like. My nerves are hyper-aware, sending ripples through my body with every brush against my skin. My temperature is out of whack and too high. My hormones are crashing inside of me. I want to grab the closest man and kiss him.

No. Another correction. I want to call Costin back to finish what he started inside of me.

However, I have to give him credit for one thing. He was telling the truth. If this is what being mesmerized by a vampire feels like, he did not enthrall me before now.

I forced myself to push away from the wall and stumble toward the sound of traffic. Lights flash, letting me know that I'm heading in the right direction. I come out by a busy city street, instantly recognizing where I am. I tightly grip the book and amulet, tuck my head down, and hasten home.

I don't make eye contact with those on the street. I'm afraid if they look at me, they'll see my heightened state. No matter how hard I try, I can't walk in a straight line. My knees are weak, and I stumble as if I'm drunk.

If the expression on the doorman's face is any indication, I look like I'm drunk, too. He's unable to hide the smirk when he sees me.

The man waits for me to approach. He looks uncomfortable and fidgety in his well-fitted navy uniform, crisp white shirt, and tie. A brass name badge and white gloves complete the ensemble.

"Miss Devine,"

he greets. I know he's told me before, but I can't place his name at the moment, and I can't focus my eyes long enough to read what's on his nametag. He holds the door open, and he stands inappropriately close when I move past. If I'm not mistaken, he inhales deeply, as if trying to smell my hair. I do my best to ignore it. Normally, the doormen are overly professional with polished manners. This one has a coarseness to him. He's not going to last long in this building.

Thankfully, the ecstasy effect is wearing off. The last thing I need is to get caught making out with the doorman in front of my parents' penthouse.

Keeping my head down, I rush to the elevator. My sneakers on marble sound abnormally loud, drawing attention. As the doors close, I press into a corner and stare at my distorted reflection on the shiny gold wall. My heart begins to slow, and I concentrate on regaining control of my senses. The elevator moves, and I watch the numbers count upward. Tension fills me in those seconds between each floor as I hope no one stops my ascent.

I don't want my parents or the staff to see me frazzled. I can't even think of the words I would use to explain my heightened state. Only now is it beginning to dawn on me that somehow I moved from lower Manhattan to here without memory of the trip. What had been seconds of blissful haze in my mind had to equal a minimum of twenty minutes in reality.

Unless we teleported.

Or Costin carried me with his supernatural speed.

Did he carry me? I don't remember him carrying me.

Movement along the corner of my eye startles me, and I try to chase the reflection along the doors. It's nothing. I'm still alone in the elevator.

I resist sliding down the metal wall to curl into the elevator floor. Holding my breath, I watch the doors finally open, and the foyer comes into view. I don't wait as I stumble toward my bedroom. I try to keep my footsteps quiet by running on the balls of my feet to keep my heels from thumping. I rush inside and shut the door behind me as softly as I can.

I push my back into the wooden barrier just as I pressed against the brick in the alley. Now that I'm alone, I visualize Costin standing in front of me. I try to capture that feeling of when I was under his enthrall. My body tries to make my mind follow the seductions, but my brain insists on figuring out how he moved me from the graveyard to the alley without me being aware.

There is no answer. All I remember is him—his shimmering face, that deep ache, and the smell of…

Pizza?

I frown, coming out of my thoughts as I cross the room to turn on a lamp. A pizza box sits on the end of my bed. I spin around, looking for Costin, but he's not there. I put the book and amulet pouch down and slowly open the box, feeling the heat of the food from within. Pineapple, green peppers, and ham? That's an interesting choice. Though, I suppose it's more the thought that counts. He probably stole someone's order and dropped it off in the time it took me to ride the elevator up.

My phone dings and I give a little jolt of surprise at the noise. I fumble to pull it out of my back pocket.

It's a text from Anthony. "Come down. Let's find trouble."

"No. Home. Have fun,"

I answer before tossing the phone on the bed next to my homework for the night.

I see his answer light up the screen notification, "Boo. Boring."

If he only knew. My life is suddenly anything but boring.

I grab a piece of pizza and begin picking off the green peppers to drop them into the box. When I bite into the slice, I can still taste the residual flavor. I wonder what made him get it for me. The gesture seems almost… sweet.

Blood smears my palm where he bit me, but it's no longer bleeding. I stop to study my hand and wonder why I don't feel as repulsed as I should.

My attention goes to the book. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I am terrified. Everything in me wants to throw it into a fireplace and forget it exists. I have enough problems with my brother's ghost haunting me, and now Mortimer's plan to marry me to a magical idiot. The idea of ancient evil coming for us is almost too much to bear.

I'm just a mortal. How am I supposed to save the world?

"Grandfather?"

I whisper, wishing it was his ghost lurking in my shadows. "Why didn't you warn me about this? I don't think I can do it."

Maybe he planned to at the right moment but died before he could.

He doesn't answer. I don't expect him to.

I remember how, when I was growing up, reading books of magic had been strictly forbidden. Now, as I sit in my room, I can't shake the feeling that I'm doing something wrong. I reach for a pocket knife from my nightstand and pull the box of pizza next to me on the bed.

"Why did it have to be a blood lock?"

I mutter, lifting the knife tip to my finger. With a heavy sigh, I resign myself to a long night of translating a prophecy that I want no part of, feeling the weight of my so-called destiny pressing down on me.